Yesterday's Heroes (Consortium of Chaos Book 1) (11 page)

Half the room started squinting in
confusion, and the other half were obviously insulted at the idea that they
didn’t want money or power. 

Wyatt continued.  “With that in
mind, I think the time has come to take the gloves
off
.”

Harlot raised her hand.  “And just
what would that entailed, exactly?”

He pointed at his presentation
board, showing a graph of the Freedom Squad’s crime fighting effectiveness.  “I
propose a new delivery vehicle for your militant contempt.  Heroes are always
reactive.  We know this.  You rob a bank; they show up and stop you.  You build
a death ray; they build an
anti
-death ray.  That’s the way it’s always
been.  They’re just sitting around waiting for
YOU
to do something, and
they’re bored as hell.  Trust me, I know from experience.  They are looking for
something… ANYTHING… to focus on except the monotony of the wait.  They WANT
you to act in some spectacular fashion.  If you don’t, they have no way to
alleviate their frustration.  I mean to take advantage of that.”

Harlot squinted in confusion.  “How?”

He switched out the presentation
board and changed it to a diagram showing the roster of the Freedom Squad.  “You’re
not going to do anything to the city that they can stop.  You’re not going to
GIVE them the spectacular moment of excitement which grants their boring lives
meaning.  No heroic fights.  No grandstanding for the press.  Nothing.  Instead,
you’re going to go after
them
and not give them an opportunity to react
at all.  Not the banks.  Not the city or the world.  Not the money.  You’ll go
after
them
.”  He brought the pointer down on the image of the Freedom
Squad.  “They’ll never see it coming.”

Poacher raised his hand.  “We’ve
tried that.  They kick our asses every time.”

Wyatt nodded, as if he expected
this criticism.  “I know they do.  I was in attendance at most of those ass
kickings, if you recall.  You misunderstand my plan though; I’m not saying you
should fight them outright.  That would simply be repeating past mistakes, and
give them an opportunity for glory and an end to their boredom.  No, I’m going
to use the very system they allegedly protect against them.  Strangle them in
red tape.  All the piddling shit that drives normal people crazy?  That’s what
you’ll use.  You’re going to sue them for battery.  You’re going to report
their aircraft to the FAA for not meeting licensing requirements, to
immigration for being space aliens and robots which do not hold citizenship,
and to the zoning board on breaking regulations on the size and placement of
skyscrapers.  You’re going to get them pulled over for speeding in their rocket
cars, and for not having visible license plates.  By the time I’m done, every so-called
hero in town will be in court trying to explain to Child Protective Services why
he left his kids unattended for weeks on end to fight that war in another
dimension, and will be too afraid to stop so much as a
purse snatcher
for fear he’ll get sued for assault and unlawful arrest.  I’m going to turn
this whole city against them.  Without the emotional high of victory, the tedium
and frustration of the job will make them crumble.  I’m going to use the city
itself as a weapon to beat them to death.  And the best part is, there isn’t a
goddamned thing they can do about it, because it’s all above board.  It’s all
legal
.”

The Commodore steepled his fingers
and leaned forward in thought.  “Combat by committee?  A compelling
contemplation… Capitalize on the civil and criminal court’s command, and
consequently control the careers of the complete catalog of Capes in the city…”

Wyatt nodded.  “I can put half of
them away right now for some of the shit they’ve done over the years.  And when
the stragglers who I can’t
immediately
have arrested eventually snap and
try to stop us by force?  I worked with them for years; I know who they are,
where they live, and what they can do.  I can tell you everything you’d ever
want to know about those assholes.  They don’t stand a
chance. 
Their
greatest advantage is the fact that they are a team.  You people, on the other
hand, are most assuredly NOT a team.  You have no idea how to work together
effectively in larger groups.  Honestly, I’ve only been here a few hours and I
can’t count the number of arguments and fights I’ve seen you have.  This is
just a stupid mundane meeting and you can’t even cooperate long enough to decide
what topping to order on your
pizza
, so I can’t
IMAGINE
what it
would be like to see you idiots in a life or death situation trying to work
together.”

Harlot frowned.  What was that
supposed to mean?  They got along fine.  Hell, they were all on their BEST
behavior today. 

The Commodore pursed his lips in
thought, but then nodded his assent to the thought.  “While chary in my
confirmation of your claim… your case is cogent.  No continued confirmation is
craved to certify that our clashes and constant clamor do consistently check
our contributions to crime.  I confess that our current company is so
contentious that they could complicate a cup of coffee even if conveyed a
caterer and a coach.  Casualties would be a consequence of cogitating how to
commence creation of cappuccino from the contraption.”

Wyatt stared at him a long moment. 
“Okay… I don’t know what half of that meant, Sir, but it
sounded
like
you agree.”

Harlot put her hand up, again.  “I
don’t think we argue too much.  We’re just… a little overzealous in our
enthusiasm for the job sometimes.”  She looked around the table for
confirmation of her words.  “Right guys?”

Tyrant’s eyes blazed with sudden
rage.  “
Overzealous?
  You DARE to accuse
ME
of being overzealous!?! 
Being overzealous about this insignificant business, in this even
MORE
insignificant dimension, would be a defect!  And
I DO NOT POSSESS DEFECTS!
 
I
AM WITHOUT FAULT!!!
” The prisoner attached to his belt jingled something
and he redirected his gaze to glare at her.  “And why exactly am I supposed to
CARE
if you have a headache or not?  HUH!?!  YOUR HEAD AND EVERYTHING ELSE ABOUT YOU
BELONGS TO ME, INSECT!
  ME!!!  IF I WISH TO SCREAM; I WILL!  AND YOU WILL
SILENTLY LISTEN TO MY GENIUS IN REVERENT AWE, AND UNQUESTIONING OBEDIENCE!”

Harlot turned back to Wyatt. 
“Okay… so MAYBE you have a
small
point and we’re
occasionally
a
little contentious.  You’re saying you want us to practice working together or
something?”

He shook his head and clasped his
hands behind his back and paced in front of them like some kind of evil school
master lecturing a class of very stupid children.  “On the contrary, I require
you to do nothing but be yourselves.  I will tell you their weaknesses and then
set you loose on them should they pose a problem.  Until then, you will simply
wait.”

Holly grinned and removed a
gingerbread man shaped flask from her pocket and poured its contents into her
eggnog.  “Well, it would certainly make killing them easier if we knew all
their weaknesses.”

Wyatt shook his head.  “I don’t
want to kill them.  I want to utterly
annihilate
them.”  He knocked the
easel over to illustrate his point.  “By the time I’m done, we won’t HAVE to
kill them, they’ll be killing
themselves. 
I want to destroy everything
they’ve ever worked for.  Crush their dreams like bugs in the dust, and leave
them alone with their misery and the sounds of the crowd chanting for their heads.” 
He closed his telescoping pointer to drive his point home.  “This world is
changing, ladies and gentlemen.  And we’re changing with it.  They’re
yesterday’s
heroes, and today is a
brand new day!”

The room was silent for a long
moment.  Then two.  

Harlot finally raised her hand. 
“So… let me just bottom line your proposal; you want to turn against your
former friends, and help us incarcerate or kill them?  Correct?”

He carefully closed the easel and
returned it to the corner of the room.  “In a word?  Yes.”

Her mouth fell open in shock.  That
was NOT the proposal she had been expecting him to make.  She was expecting
some kind of plea for them to turn their lives around and fight for justice or
whatever.  NOT a scheme to effectively seize control of the city and take down
its greatest protectors.  She tried to stammer something out.  “That’s just…
that’s just… well, I don’t know a word for that.”

Vaudeville’s hand went up.  “How
about:
Backstabulous
?”

She nodded.  “Yeah.  That one will
work.”  She turned back to Wyatt.  “And why exactly are you helping us launch
this backstabulous plan?”

“I have my reasons.”

“Which are?”

His face darkened.  “None of your
concern.”

Cynic took another bite of his
pizza, his brow furrowed in consideration as he thought over Wyatt’s proposal. 
“Nope.”  He shook his head.  “Still don’t trust Harlot’s little fuck muppet. 
If cape wearing soldier-boy wants to go from ‘
Semper Fi’
to ‘
Semper I’,
that doesn’t involve us.  This is
obviously
a trap.”  His eyes slid over
the faces of his co-workers.  “…And
you’re all
probably in it with him…”

Wyatt returned to his seat.  “I can
assure you that this plan
WILL
work.”

Gurrier cut himself another slice
of pizza with one of his knives and wiped the blade clean with a napkin.  “Yeah,
I’m with Steven.  I vote we just gut this guy right now, and send the other
capes his head in a box.”  He took a bite of his lunch.  “Be a good warning to
them about launching such idiotic plans in the future.”

Tyrant finished lighting his elegant
candelabra and prepared to eat his sushi.  “Indeed.  And
I
can assure
everyone that decapitation is a plan that
ALWAYS
works.”  The captive on
his belt jingled and his glared down at it.  “That time doesn’t count because
the fellow had two heads to begin with.  Now…
STOP DISTURBING ME WHILE I’M
DINING!”

Sargassum glowered at Tyrant’s sushi
in disapproval.  “That fish had a FAMILY, Kasos.  Dreams! 
It had a SOUL!”

Tyrant didn’t bother to even look
at the man as he ate his food.  “Indeed, and
NOW
it has a wasabi dipping
sauce.”  His prisoner jingled something at him and his discussion with Julian
was forgotten, as his argument with his hostage spiraled out of control again.
 

Everyone ignored them.

The Commodore took off his hat for
a moment and twirled the ends of his handlebar mustache in consideration.  “This
campaign is certainly compelling…”  He put his hat back on.  “I come to the
conclusion that I can certify this crusade and call for commitments from our
clan.  Do I carry a concordance?”

Each chair was called upon for
their vote and by the time it reached Harlot, it was a dead heat.  Half of the
Consortium was voting to go ahead with Wyatt’s plan and the other half wanted
to keep things business as usual.  She stared down at the table a long moment
trying to decide what to do.

Dammit, why did it have to come
down to HER vote?

Her father leaned closer to her in
concern at her silence.  “Cupcake?”

Harlot straightened in her chair
and met Wyatt’s gaze.  The face of the nation’s formally most beloved young
hero stared back at her expectantly.  Such a great hero…

She took a fortifying breath.  “I’m
trusting you with my family here, Fabricator.”  She hesitantly put up her hand up
in an affirmative vote for the plan.  “…If you’re not on the level about this,
I swear to
god
, I will help Gurrier and Tyrant put your head in a box, I
shit you not.”

The Commodore’s eyes narrowed in
disapproval.  “Cease your colorful colloquy, child.  It’s not cultured.”

Poacher laughed.  “Yeah, sorry
Harlot, but Fabricator’s not the best at keeping family alive when on mission.”
 He bared his teeth in an evil grin.  “Are you…
killer?
”

Wyatt’s temper flared and he sprang
from his chair.  In the same motion he formed a large circular blade of energy
and tossed the telekinetic saw weapon at Poacher.  The larger man swore and
ducked as the weapon impacted where he had been sitting seconds before and cut
the top of his chair off.

Librarian casually pulled out her
accounting notebook, utterly indifferent to the violence.  “I am making a
notation here and taking the cost of replacing one Anderson executive-style
command chair model number AA23 from your first Consortium of Chaos paycheck,
Fabricator.”  She finished writing out the paperwork and slid a carbon copy
across the table at him.

Wyatt ignored her, and stormed from
the room.

Vaudeville blinked in astonishment. 
“Jesus…  He just tried to kill Syd!  You guys see that?”  He grinned.  “And
it’s only his FIRST day!  Yeah, I think he’ll get alone just great here in our
cast.  Hell, he’s like one of the
Fam
already!”

A fox lost his tail
when he escaped from a trap.  Thereafter, feeling his life was burdened by the
shame and ridicule he would now receive, he schemed to convince all the other foxes
that being tailless was much more attractive.  He assembled the other foxes and
publicly advised them to cut off their own tails, saying that they would look
much better without them.  One of them interrupted him and said, "If you
had not lost your own tail, my friend, you would not counsel us thus." 
Moral of the story?  Misery loves company.

Wyatt stalked through the hallways
of his temporary new “home,” still seething from the meeting.  Fucking
Poacher.  What an asshole.

This whole thing was a mistake.  He
never should have come here.  It was a stupid idea and he should have gone with
his gut.  This was NEVER going to work.  He thought it over for a minute and
fished out the stack of envelopes from his briefcase and removed the top one. 
It was marked “72.”  He tore it open and stared down at the letter:

Dude, you’re really going to let
a guy like Poacher upset you?  Chill out.  So, your new job involves sitting
around eating pizza with sexy women… and you’re upset about this for some
reason?  I mean, I personally think Harlot looks hotter than ever.  You really need
to have more confidence in the plan, Bro.  Trust me.  What could possibly go
wrong?

He carefully re-folded the letter and
put it on the bottom of the stack.

What could possibly go wrong? 
Yeah.  It’s not like anything bad ever happened right?  What could possibly go
wrong with trying to assimilate into this bunch of homicidal
losers? 
Just
BEING
here was equal parts embarrassing, aggravating and insulting. 
They would NEVER cooperate with what he needed them to do.  It simply
wasn’t
going to happen
. And even if they DID cooperate, they wouldn’t be of much
use anyway.  Honestly, it was a wonder they had all survived as long as they
had.  They were incompetent and he could tell that his first order of business
was going to have to be to teach these villains HOW to be villains.
 
Hell,
it was HIS plan and even
he
was beginning to think that it was a
mistake.  He should just walk out of here right now and never look back.  His
mind had already come up with half a dozen different ways to achieve his
objectives, and NONE of them involved these annoying psychotic hopeless rejects. 
They were only getting in his way; like trying to manage a dozen screaming
children while running across a battlefield.  They were a liability and an irritation.

His eyes narrowed.

Trust you with my family. 
Right. 
What the hell kind of family was this?  Huh, Harlot?  An EVIL one.  They
probably had to have pizza meetings to keep from eating
EACH OTHER
in
there and not even that seemed to be working.  Harlot.  Where the hell did she
get off lecturing HIM about family?  What an aggravating woman.  She had no
idea how to be a hero, and as far as he could see, knew very little about how
to be a villain.  She didn’t DO anything here.  Hell, she didn’t even have
powers.  Her whole purpose was to get the REAL villains out of prison when
their own ineptitude got them caught.  That didn’t make you evil though, it made
you a bail bondsman in a sexy black leather body suit…..a
really, really
sexy bodysuit.

My family.
  Oh yeah, well
your “family” is a bunch of incompetent
morons
.  They were so bad at
stealing money, that if they all simply got jobs in the fast-food industry
instead of embracing crime, they could double their yearly haul.

They were all just getting in his
way, especially Harlot.  What kind of evil villainess was happy all the time? 
It was…unnatural.  Villainesses should be…villainous; heartless, bitchy ice
queens who terrorize the populous, and are hyper-sexualized and overtly slutty. 
That’s how these things were done!  It was a good system, and that girl was
ruining it.  If she wanted to be a REAL villain, she’d have to change some
stuff.  She had the evil villainess sexiness down…holy god did she have that
down,…her costume was right on the money, and accents were always a plus for
villainesses, but her personality was nowhere NEAR evil.  It needed work if
this organization was going to be taken seriously.  Hell, EVERYTHING here
needed work.

He didn’t have time to be a
consultant on evil for these people; he was SUPPOSED to be joining up with
professionals
. 
Case in point: WHY was he allowed to just wander around their base like this? 
They should be watching him at all times!  He could be doing ANYTHING right now
and they’d have no idea.  They SHOULD be beating the truth out of him.  A REAL
villain would have tied him to a chair as soon as he showed up here and beat
the living shit out of him until they figured out what his game was.  Instead,
they welcomed him in, gave him pizza and allowed him free reign to explore
their hideout.  Total amateur hour.  He’d apparently have to put on a
presentation on how to be TRULY evil…If he stayed here at all, which was
looking less and less likely.  He just wanted to escape them all.

He pushed open a random door and
made his way into what appeared to be some sort of break or recreation room.  A
large TV was set up in front of several comfy looking black leather chairs and
sofas.  Shelves lined the walls and were filled with all manner of books,
magazines, DVDs and games.  Everything needed to entertain the large number of
people who seemed to live here.

A figure on the couch wearing a
Metallica t-shirt turned to look at him as he stormed in.  Wyatt tried to place
the man…his face looked vaguely familiar.  The man gave him a casual wave and
then went back to watching what appeared to be coverage of a yacht race.

Wyatt blinked.  That was a strange
thing for an evil person to be watching…And then he placed the man.  Phillip
Thatch.  AKA; “Blackguard, Last of the Barbary Pirates”.  He had never seen him
without his pirate garb on before.  For some reason, Wyatt found himself
slumping down on one of the couches beside him.

The other man offered him a bowl of
popcorn.  “Rough meeting, huh?  Yeah, could have told you that.  I always skip
pizza day.”  He tossed a kernel high into the air and caught it in his mouth. 
“Only thing worse, is an office party.  The
second
you see streamers up
in there, I’d advise you to
run. 
Because people are going to
die
.
”

They were both silent for several
moments.

Wyatt watched the boat race
disinterestedly.  “So…you’re not going with the pirate thing anymore?  Because
the last time I ran into you, it was all ‘
Avast, ye swabs!  Man the cannons
and make those dogs walk the plank!’”

Blackguard ate a mouthful of popcorn
and turned to look at Wyatt like it was a stupid question to ask.  “Why would I
wear a costume in my own
living room?
  Jeez man, use your head.  You
think firemen wear all their gear when they’re at home watching TV?”

Wyatt blinked in surprise.  Wow. 
Someone finally said something that made a modicum of sense.  Wyatt stared at
the yachts on the TV.  “Didn’t you and The Yachtsman attack this race awhile
back or something?”

The other man laughed.  “HA!  Yeah.”
 He turned on his cushion, his eyes narrowing.  “…But those
bastards
in
the judge’s booth didn’t want to give us the trophy.  Can you imagine that?” 
He shook his head in disgust and righteous indignation.  “’Cheating’, my ass. 
I had Librarian look over every INCH of the rule book before we left, and there
was
NO
rule forbidding use of cannons against the other competitors. 
The whole race is rigged man; it’s a popularity contest.  That’s all it is.  A
fucking popularity contest.  But we
convinced
them to see our side.”

He pointed to a large golden trophy
on one of the shelves, and Wyatt’s eyes focused on several large skull sized
dents in in its gleaming surface.  He had the sudden image of Blackguard and Yachtsman
using the object to bludgeon the judges into submission and then fleeing the
scene in their pirate vessel, trophy in hand.

Wyatt turned around as he heard
someone come into the TV room behind him.  Wyatt recognized the thin dark
haired man in the brown corduroy coat.  James Ackroyd Sheppard AKA “The
Narrator”.  Narrator could…..

“The man dressed as a Beatnik professor
cut Wyatt off before he could finish his thought.  Wyatt stood in stunned
silence as The Narrator continued his OWN backstory without waiting for him to
say a word.”  The Narrator absently scanned the room looking for something, and
then continued his own biography.  “…Wyatt was very confused now.  What the
hell was going on here?  This man seemed to know what he was thinking.  Wyatt’s
eyes widened as the full ramifications of that fact hit him.  Wyatt instantly
thought of his plan.  This plan was the epicenter of his life...Wyatt stopped
thinking about his silly plot, and his anger at the superior looking man exploded…”

“STOP THAT!”  They both chorused at
once.

“They both chorused at once.  The
Narrator shrugged.  As much as Wyatt’s heart yearned for revenge…The Narrator
found that he simply didn’t care at all.  Jamie was used to dealing with people
such as him.  People who sought to end his story; re-write the epic narrative
of HIS life.  How had he gone from a highly paid writer and voice-over actor,
to the greatest and most powerful super-villain of all time?  He stared at the
wall; lost in self-reflection. 
Chapter One: The Promise of Home.
  The
story of his life began in the Spring.  It had been cold that day.  As cold as
young Jamie would eventually learn the world to actually be.  Cold and harsh
and dark.  In due course, he would realize that the world was an uncaring
frozen wasteland, upon which he would be forced to travel, like some lonely Eskimo
wearily crossing the lifeless snowy tundra towards the warm promise of home. 
But that discovery was still years off for him.  This was before the darkness…but
after the dawn.  That brief moment when Jamie could…The Narrator stopped
speaking as Wyatt prepared to say something
astoundingly
stupid…”

“I said STOP THAT!” Wyatt bellowed.

Blackguard groaned and turned up
the volume on his TV.  “Oh, for the LOVE OF GOD!  Shut up, Jamie!  I’m trying
to…”

“…
watch this!
  The Narrator
finished for him.  No.  Neither Phillip nor The New Guy understood that Jamie always
finished
his
stories
HIS
way.  Turn
fiction
into
non-fiction
whenever he desired.  Because no one can win an argument with The Narrator; he
controls the story.  Yes.  Perhaps a
demonstration
was in order.  As The
Narrator spoke, a herd of aardvarks ran through the TV room…”

All eyes turned to the other doorway
to watch as a group of animals appeared at the door and ran through the room. 

Wyatt blinked.  What the hell?

“Wyatt blinked.  What the hell? 
Was this seriously happening?  The Narrator laughed; enjoying the utter
stupefaction apparent on the man’s face.   He reached for the martini which
suddenly appeared in his right hand.”  A martini appeared and The Narrator took
a sip.  “The Narrator thought back on his own backstory and the many tales of
intrigue and passion he had experienced…which he decided to leave for a later
chapter.  Wyatt was growing increasingly impatient with hearing about this
extraordinary man standing in front of him.  His own self-confidence was
completely unable to deal with the idea that this man was so
staggeringly
superior to him.  Wyatt blinked back tears of shame, self-loathing and utter
humiliation.”

Wyatt voice rose an octave.  “I am
NOT!  Now you’re just making shit up!”

The Narrator pretended not to even
hear him.  “…Wyatt knew that he was nothing, while this man was truly…
God
. 
Wyatt also remembered that Jaime was wanted in five countries and seven states
for a variety of crimes; from murder and briefly altering reality last year to
make himself
Grand Pharaoh of the Americas
and married to Felicia Watson
the actress from those
Adventure Academy
movies, to crashing a black-tie
awards ceremony of the National Author’s Society and trying to punch Stephen
King in the face for unknown reasons.  The Narrator took another sip of his
drink as his dialogue ended.”

Wyatt stared at him for a moment
waiting to see if he was finally finished.  “You done yet?”  He shook his
head.  “Damn.  Now I know why they call you the Narrator…you never
shut the
hell up!
”

Blackguard turned to look at them
as his race went to commercial break.  “By the way, if you don’t want to wait
for a later chapter and find yourself
desperate
to hear more of his
marvelous tale of ‘intrigue and passion’?  Jamie’s already written his
autobiography:
The Author of Darkness and Dawn…Volume One
.”  He ate some
popcorn.  “If you think LISTENING to him is…”

Narrator glared at him.  “The Narrator
glared at Blackguard in righteous fury. 
Stay out of my stuff!
  He
yelled and stormed from the room.”

The man stalked out, pushing passed
Harlot. 

She cleared her throat.  “Where are
there weird animals racing down the hallway, guys?  Did Jamie do that?  Cause
Syd’s going to be really angry that now he’s got to chase those things down and
find somewhere to put them.”  She blinked several times as she watched the
creatures stampede down the hall, but was apparently used to dealing with
bizarre things happening, and quickly lost interest.  “Phillip, can I speak
with Wyatt a moment?”  She started to say something else but Blackguard simply
drowned her out by turning the race announcer’s chatter up louder with the
volume controls.  She sighed again and walked closer to Wyatt so that she could
be heard.  “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?”